Vendetta
by HoneyTwilight
Summary: He Couldn't Understand Life like he did... Probably because he Ran from It, he was always Scared. What a baby, time that I Took what is rightfully mine... Am I sorry? No, I am not. Like the cookie crumbles, You'll be falling for me too. M for murder


…It was a pity, really.

Seeing my brother there, lying on the ground in a pool of his own blood. The same blood that ran through my veins… That really stirred something in me…. But what? Oh, that's right…

Realization.

The fact I'd killed my brother with my own two hands finally sinking in.

When faced with that, what could I do but laugh?

Tears started to form in the corners of my eyes, but they weren't remorseful…. No, the only thing I was feeling was mirth. Near rapture.

Yes, I was _happy _I'd finally done it. I'd killed him; he was finally dead. My brother had really done it, pushing me too far. He was out of line, really. He can't just do anything he wants. He needed to learn that _I'm_ the one in charge here…

On top of that, he'd found out about my secret life. My secret life away from him, Spain, France, Prussia, Germany, Japan, and the rest of my social circle. The man had known too much, and I couldn't let the knowledge continue to linger in the mind of one uninvolved, now could I? After all, he might've gone running to his precious Germany, sobbing into his shirt like the baby he was.

What bastards, the both of them. Going and leaving me behind, betraying me. Of course I'd (reluctantly) relented eventually to the two's relationship... I convinced them I didn't care. I'd told them it was fine, if it was really what would make them happy.

But of course, those were all lies.

I wasn't okay with it. Not at all.

I glared at the lifeless form. He _knew_ I was far from okay with it. We were one Nation. He can tell if I lie. He's always been able to do that. So why believe me then? Anyways, that potato would hurt my brother. Crush him. Make him even _more _annoying than usual with his gross potato jerkishness.

That was another thing. How _annoying_ my brother was… Always crying, with no backbone. Always going about how everyone probably hated him. No control over his emotions. So useless…

The glare my eyes held turned into a sneer as I delivered an unforgiving kick to the brunet's side. Bastard. He didn't deserve to be alive anyways… Which is why I killed him. No more of that hindrance.

After all, Italy truly was mine in the first place. Now there was one Italy, as it should be. Apparently, Rome wasn't as stupid as everyone thought... By leaving it all to the younger brother, he had sparked a surging, power-hungry monster. A lust for power… That had all led up to where we were now, with one brother, me, looming over the other, grinning darkly at the sight of the corpse. The universe only had room for one Italy. No longer was there the need for first names in our country names; no, no. Now there was just me, just Italy. The rightful Italy. And no one, not even my brother, would take that away from me. Not now.

I used my foot to roll my brother onto his back, exposing the many stab wounds that had appeared due to the bloody, dripping knife in my hand. I frowned, studying the marred, yet still beautiful, face. Why was he so perfect…?

My brother had always been the softer—though stronger—one, even if at times it was hard to believe. How I wished I could be like him, but that really wasn't all that possible. Unobtainable, in all honesty… It just went against every part of my nature. I had somewhat hoped that by killing my brother, his personality might switch over to me.

So I didn't have to try to be nice anymore.

So it wasn't a struggle to not just stab any and all who dared to challenge me.

So I'd feel something, actually feel.

True emotion… I'd never experienced that before. If I had, it'd been a very long time.

I kneeled by my brother's body, laying the knife to rest at his side.

My silly brother. Did he really think I was as good a Catholic as I made myself out to be? I'd gladly kill, if it meant protecting my secret.

A warm, wet sensation hit my knees, and I realized the blood on the floor had seeped through the legs of my pants. I stared for a moment, not knowing exactly how to feel now that I as drenched in my brother's blood. Well…. It was inconvenient, now I'd have to change. I had liked these pants, too. I ran a hand through my brother's blood-soaked hair, so like my own. The stupid curl seemed to somewhat deflate, mimicking the dull eyes of the man it belonged to. How predictable, he couldn't do anything but wilt.

While he was being killed, you know what the fucking bastard did? He smiled. He actually smiled. He told him he loved me, and that it was fine… Because he loved me. He knew it was time for only one Italy to be around… It'd been two hundred and six years, after all. Two hundred and six years of unification, and he said it was fine if I killed him. When he said that, I'd been stunned momentarily. How could my brother be _okay_ with this?

It was sick.

It was wrong.

So why was it okay?

Part of me wanted him to stop me, and the other wanted to rip him to shreds. Eventually, I just gave in, and stuck my brother, right in the heart. He didn't scream… He just stared at me with this creepy-ass expression, something some might call loving. I knew he'd do anything for me, but this… This was just too much.

It scared me. I'd impaled my knife into the other's torso many times, stabbing and laughing as if it were a game. The relish I took in defeating one of my fears was a joyous thing. Eventually the light faded from the idiot's eyes, and the now-dead Nation fell to the ground, face-first. I knew his face still held that stupid smile.

And I could still feel the adrenaline pumping through me now. Looking down at my body, I found that—upon closer inspection—it wasn't just my pants that were blood-soaked. All of me was covered from head to toe in specks of blood, a morbid reminder on blue fabric of the dark deed I'd just committed.

Not that it really mattered all that much to me. Giving my brother a small blessing—he was my brother after all, and I did love him even if he was a lying cheating heart-breaking bastard—by kissing his forehead, both cheeks, and lips chastely, I sighed. If only my brother wasn't so stupid, this might've been avoided…

I stared at my brother for a while. Just what had driven him to uncover the truth? The truth that I'd been killing off all of those nasty little humans, one by one, piece by piece. This way, there would be no one to tell the Nations what to do. Instead….maybe we could just do away with all of those bastard Nations. The ones who lied to me, the ones who betrayed me…

So my brother was the first?

Hm. Then who was next….?

I knew immediately who it was, now all I had to do was wait. And honestly, I wasn't sure if I could last that long….

I stood up with a sigh, a silly grin plastering itself to my face. I simply couldn't keep my happiness at bay! After I picked my knife up, I wiped it clean of blood on my pants. They were already ruined anyways… A bounce in my step, I pranced out of the room, closing the door slowly with a, "Buono notte, fratello."

I passed my room, deciding to change into something white… Yes, the blood would look deliciously gruesome after I completely the task. As I slid into my shirt, I heard a door slam shut.

Well, wasn't that absolutely perfect timing~

The sound of a deep, manly, macho voice sounded from the front door, the tell-tale sound of a certain German's entrance. A dark, sinister feeling crept up from my chest, something stirring in the pit of my stomach. Here bubbled up an evil chuckle, preparing myself for another ridiculously fun job!

And so I, Feliciano Italia Vargas, hid my beloved knife behind my back, skipping off to introduce Ludwig to his tragically unfortunate fate.

Serves the bastard right for leaving me~


End file.
